She was like autumn

[I wrote this late Wednesday, into the early hours of Thursday but have waited to get the nod from the Not Boyfriend to post it. Back in Chicago together, he gave it to me and so I share this bit of the last week now with you.]

I haven't written much lately, consumed by the daily-ness of my life and considering some very big questions. But this post called to me. I was stretched out in bed last night when the title fluttered into my sleepy thoughts so that I had to type it out before I could rest. This evening, I pushed aside that dread that comes with tapping out the first words in a long while, intent on writing a little something about the Not Boyfriend's mother who made clear she was in her final weeks after a long and tiring dance with cancer. 

My fingers rested on the keys. I was thinking about a conversation with the Not Boyfriend tonight. His mother was much weaker, a little afraid of taking more medicine, in pain. He'd had to carry her. 

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Captain Jack Something

He has never seen a "Pirates of the Caribbean" movie. He has a vague idea of the storyline because his father has unraveled some of the tales during their movie story time. But he's stumped when I ask him to recite a couple of lines of dialogue, something he can do for way too long for every single movie he's ever seen, and he's iffy on the characters.

But Captain Jack Sparrow he knows. And through this character, my character became entranced with all the idea of embodying the slightly swishy Captain Jack himself. Hey, it's Johnny Depp. How could a mother refuse? 

So we purchased the costume, the boot covers, the bandana with sewn-in sort-of dreadlocks. He begged for a sword or machete. I refused. I mentioned the possibility of facial hair and reminded and reminded and reminded me that it could not be make-up, that it needed to feel real. I hunted down a special Captain Jack-ed goatee and trimmed more than half of it away so it would fit his tiny chin. We studied Google images of the sassy, slightly swishy swashbuckler and despite his lack of knowledge about this whole thing, I couldn't help but think how perfect this get-up is for my kid.

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Looking for love: floating in the ocean

I've found it in a rush, trying to get out of the house in the morning.

I've found it over dinner, trying to get as much conversation and romance in as possible to one meal.

I've found it underfoot, when the universe saw me walking through stress and grief and sent a subtle sign to me to slow down just for a moment.

And last month, waist-high in the ocean on our last day in Hawaii, after a week of stress detoxing in saltwater and sunshine, when an unfamiliar ease filled my brain and body, I glanced down and saw it again.

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